What in the heck?
by Takhira
Summary: Hidden pasts, old flames, and trenchcoats. And yet, not your usual murder mystery.
1. Chapter 1

"And pliers, here," Shera muttered to herself. "And screwdriver…screwdriver, where'd I put that? Thanks—" She stopped, noticing someone's hand handing her the screwdriver. She turned around and examined the owner of the mysterious hand.

"Uh, I was going to ring that, but you seem to be fixing it at the moment," a short, scrawny man Shera had never seen before said. He looked innocuous enough, with dyed blonde hair that fell over his eyes slightly, and an attempt to look professional with his tie and vest. Shera was still a little bewildered. Rocket Town was small enough that everyone knew everyone else, yet this man was a complete stranger. "I'm new here. I was wondering if I could find Cid Highwind?"

"He's out back," she answered. "Just around the house, he's probably working on his plane again."

"Thanks," he said, and wandered off around the house.

Shera shrugged and went back to fixing the doorbell.

Cid was half-buried in his plane, which he'd gutted; parts were strewn everywhere on the lawn.

"Shera? You finished already?" Cid said, not moving from his work on the plane.

"No, sorry. My name's Daren."

"Well, just don't step on anything."

"I just wanted to stop by, if that's alright with you."

"Whatever—fucking piece of—not you," Cid answered. "Am I supposed to remember you? I'm not really paying attention at the moment."

"I can see that. You haven't looked at me the whole time. No, I just moved here. I noticed Rocket Town didn't have a doctor around and I decided to make a niche for myself. Very nice town you got here."

"What's a niche?"

"Its—never mind, its not important. I was wondering—you were in AVALANCHE, right?"

"I don't do autographs, if that's what you're asking."

"No, I'm interested in another member, I was wondering if you could tell me about—"

"You want gossip, read the tabloids. Leave me alone, I'm trying to fix a plane here and some fucker stuck something together with gum. I swear to god, never buy used plane parts, no matter what. Never know where the fucking hell they've been."

"I'll keep that in—no, I'm sorry, I was really interested in knowing about Mr. Vincent Valentine, if it's not too much to ask."

Cid sat up so quickly he hit his head on the gutted plane.

"Uh, I can look at that if you want."

"Out!" Cid yelled, pointing to the path around the house.

"What?" Daren asked.

"You're smart, you can figure it the hell out."

"But I—"

"I don't care!" Cid yelled. "I hear one more mother fucking word outta you about him and I'll put my spear up your ass."

"What'd I do?"

"Why the hell do you want to know about Vincent? He likes doctors as much as you're gonna like me running you over with my plane."

"I just—I used to know him, that's all. I heard he was back and—"

"Nice try. No one's stupid enough to buy that. Now get out before I throw you out, and I can throw scrawny guys pretty damn far." Cid was almost distracted from almost killing the new doctor when he was suddenly unnerved by the man's face. Cid couldn't tell what worried him more, the fact that Daren's face looked eerily familiar, or that fact that he couldn't place it. Cid ignored the feeling and went back to yelling.

"I'm leaving, already, please!" Daren yelled, rounding the corner, and narrowly avoiding a flying wrench.

"I am suddenly understanding why Rocket Town is so small." Daren commented, mostly to himself, but Shera was within hearing range.

"He's not much of a conversationalist. You weren't trying to sell him something, were you?" she asked.

"No. I'm not mean. I mean, I don't think I'm mean—Let me start over, that came out all—"

"Don't ask him about Vincent."

"How did you know?"

"I'm not deaf, that's all. It's… a touchy subject."

"Is that a pun—no, never mind, I've pried into this too much already. I should really be… um… not to be too forward but… do you still need help with that doorbell?"


	2. Chapter 2

"Alright, Mr. Highwind, someone paid your bail, youre free to go. Dont go anywhere too soon, though, we still want to question you tomorrow," The officer said, opening the door of the cell.

"Tomorrow? Sweet, holythis is a murder case, not a fucking bank loan!" Cid yelled, running to keep up as the officer walked away.

"Yeah, whatever," the officer said, sitting down at his desk. "Look, its almost midnight and theyre probably asleep." From the looks of him, he was about to do just the same.

"Sounds like itd be cheaper to stay in the cell than spend money on the hotel," Cid commented.

"Tough. Your bails been paid, get out."

"Thanks for the hospitality."

"This isnt a grocery store. We dont want people coming back here and spending their money."

"But you want ME to come back."

"Doesnt mean I care," the officer said. "Now Im going to count to three."

"And if I still here?" Cid asked, lighting a cigarette.

"Im going to fall asleep anyways. Go away."

Cid grumbled and stormed away. "Bout fuckin time Shera" Cid stopped, it was almost audible the way he skidded to a halt and the rest of his body almost had trouble keeping up with his feet as they firmly stuck to the floor.

Now, when some people see the one person theyve always loved, especially if they had an incorrigible urge to jump that person every second they saw them, they say everything stops for them. Cid had never believed it and thought the concept of time and motion stopping would be a real mood-killer. Yet here he was, his feet stuck to the floor, his breath caught in his throat, and if he didnt know better, all the clocks had stopped.

"Vincent?" Cid asked.

Cid and Vincent had what most people called a history; Cid called it a Soap Opera. Between a maniac out to end the world, Clouds amnesia and love triangle, and his past with Vincent, Cid was surprised no ones long lost twin had shown up.

Vincent just stared at him, which, for Vincent, was a reply. Vincent watched everything as he made the shadows blend in with him. No matter what he ever wore, he just vanished into the background until he wanted to be noticed, unless someone was either looking really closely, or happened to walk into him. Just like a watched people like a cat, too. Cid used to think it was cute in a subtle, manly sort of way, but now Cid didnt like the fact that Vincent kept looking at him as if he had threatened to get him fixed.

"You paid my bail?" Cid asked, completely baffled. Cid thought the prospects of Vincent coming back to him were as good as the prospects of seeing Rufus paying for someones dinner and saying God Bless us, everyone!

"You still have a problem with authority, I see," Vincent said.

"I do fucking not!" Cid yelled so loud there was a slight echo.

Vincent pointing to the NO SMOKING sign.

"Whatever. How the fuck did you know I was here? I only got one phone call and that was to Shera."

"I read the papers," Vincent said, turning, and started walking.

"Vincent, thats the crappiest goddamn lie youve ever come up with!" Admittedly, it was the only lie Vincent had ever told him. Usually Vincent just didnt answer. Usually they were talking in bed and Vincent would roll over and hog the covers and pout while Cid slapped his forehead and grumbled about them not talking enough. Usually theyd wind up lying close together, bodies pressing against each other, trying to take in as much as the other persons warmth as possible, Cids hands trying to tell them both what they should do next. Usually Cids hands had less tact than the rest of him. Somehow usually began applying to over three years ago. "This village isnt big enough for a paper. Hell, its not big enough for a PTA meeting. How the hell did you know I was in jail?"

"Im contemplating telling you about that," Vincent answered. Suddenly everything was much colder, which Cid took as a bad omen until he walked right into a lamppost. They were outside.

Cid looked around. He couldnt get in his plane and leave, the authorities still wanted to talk to him. For that matter he couldnt get in his plane without looking like he intended to escape. Not that he didnt want to just jump in a warm plane, away from screaming kids with runny noses and little coordination thanks to the bulky clothes they wore. He also wanted to escape from a village with no bar, with only bargain brand cigarettes in the stores and food usually served only in school cafeterias. What he really wanted to escape was the argument that was heavier than his rocket had been, thicker than Clouds skull, and was making him more uneasy than the time Shera had asked him to get her some pads on his way to the store.

"Vince" he said, turning around.

There was nothing there but falling snow.

"I thought only guys in spandex could do that."

*****

"Youre full? How can you be full?" Cid asked the hotel manager. Actually, it was the hotel managers young daughter, but she seemed to have it together better than the manger did on his better days.

"We only have three rooms."

"I take it this aint much of a tourist attraction."

"Nope. We dont get many terrorists around here."

"I said tourist. Look, can I just sleep in a chair?"

"Nope."

Cid sighed. He had three options of finding a sleeping place tonight. He could sleep in the snow and get more frostbite than rest. He could do something stupid and get himself arrested again just to be able to sleep in the jail, but that depended solely on the police force, which consisted of two people and a dogfour if you counted a sorry looking plant at the stationto get up just to arrest someone looking for a bed. The last option was to sleep in the abandoned building Dr. Gast had hidden out in. As much as documentaries put him to sleep, it was cancelled out by the fact that he was sleeping in the same room with a snuff film. His options seemed almost as bleak as Nanakis chances with a dating service.

"You sure there isnt a Vincent Valentine, or anyone with a name like that using one of the rooms?"

"Yup," the girl said as the phone rang. She ignored him as she doodled a scribble that was either a fish or a moose as she listened. "Youre Cid Highwind?"

"Either that or Ive been checking the wrong mailbox for the last few years."

"Nevermind. Hes in the third room."

"Huh?" Cid asked. "Did I just miss something?"

"He paid me five gil not to tell anyone he was here, but he changed his mind."

Cid contemplated asking her what she was talking about, but decided he was too tired for the answer. Unfortunately, he was too tired to contemplate it very fast and the kid directed himtwiceto the stairs.

Once he got to the door he stood there, wobbling from exhaustion, and wondered why nothing was happening. Then he remembered to knock. He was beginning to think that if he had bothered to try and sleep on a bed in jail, hed never be awake enough to actually commit any sort of crime.

"Come in," he heard.

Cid half-stepped; half fell into the room. He closed the door and steadied himself on it.

Vincent was sitting on the bed cleaning his gun. As tempting a scene as it was, it was ruined when Vincent glanced up at Cid. Vincent could take the mood out of anything, phallic symbol or not.

"So" Cid started, scratching his head and yawning. "Thanks for payin the bail. I can pay you back if"

"No."

"Why are you so damn mad at me? Whatd I do?"

"You kicked me out, as I recall."

"I didnt kick you out. It was killing us both and you know it."

"And thats why you told me to leave?"

"I told you if you needed help, Id come and help you. You could have called, or written a letter, or dropped by"

"Or taken my boxers off in bed," Vincent said.

Cid didnt like the way Vincent spoke, then again he didnt like the way Vincent was inspecting his gun.

"You were arrested for the murder of a construction worker down by the springs, werent you?"

"Howd you know?" Cid asked.

"Because I was the one who called the cops. I was also the one who explained to them that no one was stupid enough to knock themselves unconscious at the scene of the crime."

"You also paid my bail. Either you REALLY wanted to ignore me, or youre interested in all this."

"I always did enjoy the fact that conversations with you were faster than with Cloud," Vincent said, setting the gun aside to Cids relief.

"Im going to take that as a compliment," Cid said.

"Dont get your hopes up."

"Thats not the only thing getting up when youre around and you know it."

"You never did know how to take No for an answer did you?"

"Is it me, or does this have nothing to do with the murder?"

"It has to do with us. I thought you said that was more important than the rest of the world."

"Look, Vince, Ill sit through youre abuse and Ill take. But Ive been up for thirty-six hours straight. Please dont take offense if I pass out."

"Youve been away from home for thirty-six hours?"

"Nah, I had this schedule and the authorities fucked it all up. I wouldnt be getting home for another week, and that would be to pick up cargo. Not enough time to talk to Shera. Whole things gonna last a fortnight."

"How long have you been gone?"

"So far? Five days. Why?" Cid asked, sitting down on the floor. He needed what was left of his brain to concentrate on what Vincent was talking about. However, that meant he couldnt concentrate on anything else, such balancing.

"You dont read the news do you?"

"Not really. Its fulla politics and I dont have the time much. I told Shera to tell me if anything happened."

"Reeves dead."

"Oh, right. Wait, what?"

"Murdered. Gunshots. No one knows who did it."

"Hold on. I just got arrested for a murder I didnt commit. You show up, then you tell me Reeves dead. You sure Im not asleep yet?"

"Youre not in youre underwear, Cid. This isnt a dream."

"Youre here, and Im not in my underwear? If this is a dream, its a crappy one. Pretty crappy reality too."

"Cid, can we get back to the topic on hand? What the hells going to prove you arent dreaming?"

"You could kiss me."

Vincent kicked Cid in the jaw with his booted foot.

"Close enough," Cid said, rubbing his jaw. "I guess I should be happy youre even talking to me."

"Yes, you should be. The only suspects were the TURKS. They all lost their jobs when Shinra fell and Reeve was too much of a pacifist for them to return to the good old days of burning and pillaging. Reno was raising hell in Gongaga and Rudes dead. His apartment was destroyed and there hasnt been a trace of him since."

"Vince, hes a TURK, how do you know hes not just somewhere else and some fucker broke in?"

"Because all his weapons were left behind. He didnt take any with him. Plus the damage looks like it was caused by a small bomb."

"What about Elena?"

"She was arresting Reno."

"What about AVALANCHE?"

"Youre accusing your friends?"

"No, Im saying someone else might."

"Barrett and Elmyra were at home all night. Cloud was babysitting Marlene and Tifa was babysitting Cloud. I was here; you were on your plane. Nanaki cant use a gun and Yuffie was in Wutai. Everyone had witnesses."

"Why are you getting so worked up about this, Vince? I mean, this all seems pretty creepy, but why you?"

"You think I dont care about people?"

"Well, you did use to be a TURK. Last I checked, that involved more killing and a bigger show of force in a month than most TV networks show in a year. I just didnt think you were too big on morals."

"Ive changed Cid. I thought that was what you wanted."

"Its a pretty big change for you to start playing Caped Crusader. Not that you dont have the outfit for it."

Vincent said nothing.

Cid said nothing back.

If there was one thing Vincent had learned form his time in the TURKS; it was how to scare people just by looking at people. He kept staring at Cid, the way a praying mantis stares a something too big too eat and wonders if its having a bad enough day to bite its head off anyway. Between his eyes and his left arm, Vincent gave off the impression that either you should make sure he ignored you or that you should become his friend before he decided he was hungry.

The overall effect of the glare was lost on Cid, who yawned and tried to blink away his drowsiness. The problem with being intimidating is making sure your victim has the mental capacity to be scared of you in the first place. That must have been why Cloud was never scared of him; that and probably the bed-head from sleeping in the coffin.

"Well, thanks for tellin me. You gonna kick me out as revenge or you wanna kiss and makeup?"

"Cid, you couldnt kiss and makeup if your life were on the line. Hell, you couldnt kiss and makeup if you plane were on the line."

"Hey, Im a pretty good kisser."

"The last time you said you loved me you were handing me a suitcase and told me we had to break up and I had to get out of the house."

"Vincent, you dont understand."

"No, Cid. I understand. I understand way too much, thats my problem. I always understand way too much, way too late. Its always been my problem. Now, are you going to start humping the bed or listen to the rest of what I have to say?"

"Ill listen. If I dont fall asleep first."

"Im asking you for a favor, Cid. No one was trying to frame you, they just didnt want a witness."

"How do you know?"

"Because his name was Andy Seaberg. I knew him. Just for two days, but I knew him. He wasnt the real target, Cid. I was. Andy got too close. Someones after me, but they know I can take care of myself. Now Reeves gone, and Rudes dead. I dont know whats going on, but I dont like it. Especially since I never told anyone about my past."

"Well, dont lookit me."

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"When Im awake, sure."

"What about the plane?"

"Ill call the boys in the morning. Tell em to go get back on schedule."

Cid looked at Vincent, hoping to some sort of thanks, but Vincent started taking off his shoes, acting as if the conversation never happened.

"You can sleep on the floor," Vincent said, one of his boots hitting the floor.

"Thanks," Cid said. He knew he should be grateful Vincent was letting him sleep anywhere near him, but he wondered if Vincent was going to try and strangle him in the night, though.

Vincent dropped his other boot on the floor. He unbuckled his cape and tossed it in a corner. He stared at the floor as if he expected it to answer a question he hadnt asked it. He sighed; floors werent great conversationalists, and he knew he had to ask the question to someone else.

"Cid why are you doing this?"

Cids response wasnt the one Vincent wanted, but it was to be expected. He snored. Vincent looked over at Cid, slumbering away on the cold hard floor.

Part of him wanted to slap Cid very hard across the face with his left hand. Part of him wanted to punch Cid in the jaw. Part of him even wished Cid would get bitten in the crotch by a poisonous snake. Somehow, though, the part of him that on out was the tiny little voice in his head, making him put a blanket over Cid and toss a pillow at him.


	3. Chapter 3

Vincent woke up, somehow on the other side of the bed than he'd fallen asleep on. He was spooning against Cid, for warmth no doubt. Although technically Cid's hands were behaving themselves, they were still causing trouble. Cid was cuddled up with Vincent's metal hand in his own flesh ones and was snoring away peacefully.

Vincent sat up as much as he could manage and quietly picked up his pillow. Without another sound Vincent commenced to hit Cid with it.

"Ow! Ow! I'm up! I'm up!" Cid yelled, letting go over Vincent's arm and shielding himself from the pillow.

"OUT!" Vincent yelled, finally dropping the pillow and pointing to the door.

"Can't I at least have a shower first?" Cid muttered, getting out of the bed.

"No."

"Vince, what's going on?"

"I'm still mad at you. Out. Now." Vincent was starting to get up. Cid was about to bet the left wing of the Tiny Bronco Vincent was going for the Death Penalty and started backing up to the door.

"Okay, okay."

Vincent followed him, for once not caring about his own nudity in front of someone else, and opened the door, shoving Cid through it.

"Can't we—" The door slammed in Cid's face, smacking him in the nose. He was pretty damn sure Vincent did that on purpose.

"HEY!"

The door opened and Cid was greeted with his underpants flying in his face. The door slammed again, this time missing his nose.

"Hi, mister!" a squeaky voice said as Cid was putting his briefs on. He nearly dropped them as he saw the young girl from the reception desk two feet away.

"Holy bloody buggering fucking hell!" Cid yelled, and yanked his briefs up.

"You!" a man, obviously the child's father, yelled, entering the hallway. Apparently he wasn't too keen on running a business unless someone was naked. A lot like a movie producer. "Do you have any idea how much noise you were making last night? This little girl isn't stupid enough to believe you were moving furniture all night."

"Daddy, he got kicked out jus' like the guy mommy was wi—"

"That's enough—sweetheart," the girl's father clamped a hand over her mouth.

"Hey if I knew I'd have an audience I'd have checked with the rating board," Cid said, and suddenly the floor moved. Cid landed on his ass, the girl grabbed the wall and her father was knocked backwards as the floor temporarily started a gelatin impression, then gave up, finding no one impressed with it's actions. The floor was accompanied by a strange, distant rumbling, which was almost felt rather than heard.

"What was that?" the girl's father asked.

The door to the room opened and suddenly Cid was peering between his scarf and his pants, which were on his head, his shirt was on his lap and he was hit in the head with his shoes.

"Go find out what that was," he heard Vincent say. "It came from the north." Then the door slammed. It was going to be one of those days.

"Daddy, are they gonna have a b—"

"Look what you did to my innocent little girl."

"Yeah, yeah, just be glad she didn't try and help us move the furniture. No, kid, we ain't gonna have a baby, for fucking out loud."

"Not that you weren't doing that in the first place," the man yelled, pointing at Cid, who didn't care. Unfortunately, it was the same hand he used to cover his daughter's mouth.

"If they're not gonna have a baby, did they use perfection?" the kid asked.

"Oh for—she's only six years old! Why did you have to corrupt MY kid?"

"Daddy, it's jus' like you an' mommy before she left."

* * *

After the girl decided she wasn't going to learn any new words from Cid, he found out the real reason she was there. She told him someone dropped off his plane and then ran off, hopefully to give someone else some trouble.

"I can finally go home, I finally got my plane, and what am I doing?" Cid muttered to himself, not really looking where he was going, but that had been that way had always been when he followed Cloud in the snow. "Why can't things blow up where it's warm? God Vince, did you have to be such a pain in the ass?" Cid was starting to be thankful he was going numb from cold as the aftereffects of the previous night started catching up with him.

"Where the hell am I?" Cid yelled. He was in such a bad mood most of the monsters decided to wait for cheerier prey.

"There's nothing here! Wait, what's—oh no! No. Screw you Vince, I AM NOT GOING INTO THAT DAMN CRATER!" Cid yelled angrily and turned around, stomping back to the village. "I came out here all this way for an earthquake. I swear to fucking God, there's nothing out—" A hand, balled up into one fist landed forcefully on Cid's head, cutting him off and knocking him out.

* * *

"Oh… fuck… anyone get the number of that bus?" Cid muttered, sitting up in the snow. "Great, just great. Snow in my shorts, migraine the size of Gold Saucer, and my ass feels like I got reamed with a goddamn rocket."

Cid blinked his eyes opened, then started wishing he hadn't.

Someone with long hair almost the same color as snow and a black dress was sorting through a pile of marbles. A very, very, familiar person.

Cid lifted up a finger and opened his mouth but no sound came out. His brain couldn't think of anything that would really help the situation.

Cid stood up, to look at the person from a different angle, wanting proof that he was hallucinating, or that this was not the same person who could go through walls and had a habit of lighting entire residential areas on fire.

"Yup, I've gone bonkers," Cid said to himself. "I'm getting beaten up by my own hallucinations. Right, first thing I'm gonna do is get myself committed. Preferably somewhere nice and warm. Hey, wait a minute, that's MY materia!"

"I'll give it back," Sephiroth said, as if he were asking someone to wait while he tied his shoes.

Cid suddenly realized not only had his hallucination practically beat him up for his lunch money, but that it was bleeding all over the snow. "You're hurt pretty bad there."

Sephiroth turned his head and glared at Cid, not impressed by Cid's skills at deduction. "If you're bleeding that badly, I MUST be hallucinating.

"Goddamnit, now figments of my imagination hate me!" Cid yelled.

"You spear's over there," Sephiroth said, turning back to the materia.

"So… you gonna kill me or am I already dead?"

"What do you think."

"I think I just lost my fucking marbles," Cid said. "And you seem to be playing with them."

Sephiroth ignored him, having found the Materia he was looking for. Cid would have wandered away at this moment if the materia hadn't been in his wallet and he really wanted both of them back.

There was a soft flash of green light and Sephiroth stretched his healed right arm and wiped blood off his face. "Better," he said. "Now, why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?" Cid asked. "Like I feel like I'm going to lose a sanity contest with a transvestite who has a Oedipus complex for an extraterrestrial? Like I just had sex with a praying mantis and I'm wondering why I haven't been eaten? It's just one of those days and I haven't had a cigarette."

"This is NOT a dress!" Sephiroth yelled.

There was a very long pause as both men wondered if they had smoked something weird recently.

"I am not having this conversation," they both muttered to themselves.

Cid was the first to do anything. He spun around, grabbed his spear and bolted towards the village. He didn't care how long it took him to get there, as long as he found a good wall to beat his head against until they locked him up or things started making sense.

After about a mile, Cid began to tire out and was reduced to a slow, very numb walk. He stopped and looked around to see if he was going in the right direction. He could finally see the village. It was less than a mile away. It was right there. He would just get in a warm plane and wait until spring to come out.

Then he heard footsteps behind him.

He turned around.

"What?" Sephiroth asked.

Cid took a deep breath. "…" Cid rattled off energy expletive he could remember, even a few Aeris had taught him in the Cetra language, repeating words when he ran out. "Okay…" Cid said, after almost half an hour. "I feel much better now."

"You found me."

"And you hit me on the head."

"I never was one for diplomacy. Either you were wondering who threw the bomb in the crater or you just won the world record for getting lost on the way to the store."

"The last thing I need is a psychopathic—bomb?"

"Someone threw a bomb down the crater. Along with something capable of killing Jenova."

"There was technology to… God-fucking-damnit! Why do I always get stuck doing things the dumb way?" Cid yelled. "Wait… this means you're not going to kill anyone, right."

"Only the person who took my sword."

"What kind of complete lunatic would throw a bomb down the northern crater? They'd have to be so crazy it'd make you look sane."

"There is a difference between Jenova and insanity."

"Just like there's a difference between that thing you're wearing and a dress."

"This is a trench coat!"

"Trench coat my sore ass!" Cid yelled, and continued walking. As he got to the village, he turned back to see if he was still being stalked. No one.

"I am really starting to envy Reeve right now," Cid muttered, then stopped in his tracks.

The hotel was gone. Unless one wanted to get technical about it. In that case it wasn't gone, but merely very flat.

The whole village was emptier than usual. There was only a mother and her two scared children watching from a distance as the authorities—minus the plant—picked through the debris.

"What the hell went on here?" Cid asked.

"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to leave. We have orders to evacuate the city," one of the men replied.

"Then who are they?" Cid asked, pointing at the woman and her kids.

"The village paramedics."

"The what? Where's—"

"Sir, everyone's left for North Corel."

"Hey, Jimmy!" His buddy yelled to him. "Looks like Rex found something! Oh my God, I think it's alive!"

"What'd she fi—Holy shit!" the man yelled as he and Cid ran over to take a look. The dog was pulling on a bronze piece of metal, shaped like a limp arm, and struggled to tug something heavy still attached to it out of the wreckage.


	4. Chapter 4

Ignoring the protests from the authorities, Cid ran over and started tossing heavier bits of debris aside. The men shut up one the realized not only that Cid was far stronger than either of them, but so frantic and desperate they'd lose a finger or two if they go in his way.

The dog kept pulling on Vincent's arm, slowly tugging Vincent from the collapsed hotel.

"He's still breathing! Get over here!" One of the men yelled to the woman and her kid, who ran over as soon as they heard he'd survived.

"He survived!" the other man yelled.

The dog, unable to state something obvious, started licking Vincent's face before being shoved away. Annoyed, the dog started digging and sniffing at the debris.

"Screw this! He needs a hospital!" Cid yelled, then realized what he had just said. If Vincent woke up in the hospital, surrounded by doctors in white coats and messing with his wounds, there'd be some definite carnage. If he didn't wake up, but Vincent found out Cid had taken him to a hospital; he'd have the Death Penalty up his ass before it went off.

Then again, Vincent had changed since Cid had last known him. Considering the sex—the really great sex—that before Vincent would never had consented to and attempts usually made Cid sleep on the couch for a few nights, maybe Vincent had come to terms with other things.

"The nearest hospital's in North Corel," one man said.

"He won't make it," the other said.

The dog whimpered in sympathy.

"Fuck that. I got a plane and I wouldn't follow speed limits if there were any. I can get him to damn good doctor in five minutes tops. Just throw some bandages on him so he doesn't fall apart and give him to me."

"We were hoping to question him later, sir."

"Well question him when he's conscious and not bleeding all over the place!"

"Sir, he's the only one who survived. We already pulled all the other guests out, but they were all dead from sword wounds. Even the manager and his daughter were dead."

"We didn't even know he was here. We checked the roster, and he wasn't listed in it," his buddy said.

"Whatever, give him to me and we'll focus on keeping him alive," Cid demanded.

"Hey, do we tell you how to do your job?" One of them said.

"Well you told me some shit about better behavior for someone in jail for murder when I didn't do it."

"Look, just go away and don't come back for a long time and you can take him."

Cid took Vincent from the woman, who had barely managed to apply enough bandages on him and took off to the plane, which he swore couldn't be parked farther away.

* * *

"Hang on Vince, I'll get you somewhere they'll fix you up real good. And please don't kill me," Cid said, desperately.

Vincent couldn't be paying less attention, still unconscious. Cid had had a hard time buckling Vincent in. It was bad enough Vincent wasn't cooperating and bled all over the seatbelts, making them slippery and too grimy to work, but he kept slumping and slipping out of the seat.

"Come on, you dumb plane, go faster!" Cid muttered.

"Yes, talking to it is going to help, I can see why you're such an expert mechanic," an all too familiar and very smug voice said.

Cid screamed and turned around, only to have the plane start to barrel roll once he let go of the controls.

Before they hit the ground, the plane leveled itself upright and started to climb in altitude again.

"Yeah, give the pilot a heart attack, real smart!" Cid yelled. "And how the hell did you get on my plane?"

"The door was unlocked," Sephiroth said, standing up, but completely unfazed from the nearly fatal stunt.

"Why the hell are you here?"

"There's absolutely nothing on that continent. I know that and I've been dead for god knows how long."

"Three years. But that doesn't explain why you're on my plane."

"Someone took my sword. Someone who knew I'd come back and knew most of my powers were due to Jenova."

"And?"

"And there were very few people aware of the powers of Jenova, especially of the ability to come back from the dead. If they took my sword, they not only want someone dead, but they want to start a panic at the same time."

"Fucking great, Shirley."

"I think you mean 'Sherlock.'"

"I don't fucking care! Why MY plane?"

"Because you were interested in why the bomb went off in the crater and so am I."

"Look, just 'cause your following me doesn't mean we're on the same side."

"Pity. And I thought you were smart. I don't recommend declaring me your enemy."

He had a point, Cid realized. Jenova or no Jenova, dress or no dress, flying or not flying, making Sephiroth your enemy was on anyone's the top ten list of things not to do, right above wandering into Midgar Zolom country during mating season.

"Okay, fine. But if you're in my plane or my house you follow my rules."

"Yes, fine, I'll pick up my socks. What about him? Do you usually cart corpses around, or did you lose a bet."

"Don't you touch him or I'll take my hands of these controls on purpose!"

"Yes, mom."

"Okay, first rule. Don't you ever fucking call me that again or I'm going to improve that girly hairdo of yours!"

* * *

Daren was in a cheerful mood, whistling, as he wiped down the counter, ready to leave for the day.

Everything—his mood, his whistling, and his cleaning, was interrupted as he heard someone kick his door down, off it's hinges.

"You could have knocked!" he complained as he turned around to see Cid Highwind barging in. "Or used the doorknob!"

"No time. Here," Cid said, thrusting Vincent into Daren's arms.

"What do you mean 'here?'" Daren asked, struggling to hold Vincent up.

"Holy crap, what a wuss," Cid said, taking Vincent form Daren. "You're a doctor, fix him!"

"Fix him? What the hell's wrong with him?"

"What kinda of a goddamn doctor are you? Look at him?"

"I meant what the hell happened to him. Don't handle him like that! Any bones broken?"

"How should I know? You're the doctor!"

"Well, has the bleeding stopped?"

"I dunno."

"How long ago did this happen?"

"I dunno. Look, shut up and start fixing him before I rip your throat out."

"I'm a doctor not a plumber! You can't just take him apart and figure out what's wrong later?"

"Why not?"

"Here, just put him down on the table there. He's breathing so he's going to survive. I think you'd be a bigger help to your friend here if you left."

"I'm not leaving him alone with you! Who knows where you've been!"

"I came back from the dead for this?" Sephiroth, who had been in the doorway the entire time, asked himself.

* * *

As much as he'd protested to stay and watch every move Daren made, Cid was out of the tiny hospital in less than fifteen minutes. Vincent had a very bad black eye, well, more indigo than black, and Daren had been right to check the actual eyeball for damage. The minute he started operating on the eye, Cid fell backwards on the floor with a deafening thud.

Daren had gone back to operating, not noticing who it was who dragged Cid out of the room.

Cid woke up outside and decided to sit on he steps of the revamped building-turned-hospital while Sephiroth ignored him. Considering the alternatives, it suited Cid just fine.

It was five hours before Daren came out. "Okay. That should do it." There was blood all over his face, hands, and clothes. He wiped his brow, only spreading the blood around on his face. "He should be fine. Be careful that he doesn't pop the stitches, and don't take the bandage off his eye for the next two days. You can take him home; now go make threats on someone else's life."

Cid leapt up and ran in to retrieve Vincent, obviously not wanting him to stay here a second longer.

Daren and Sephiroth looked at each other. Daren blinked and tilted his head slightly.

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow.

"You look familiar," the both said at once.

"So… what exactly happened?" Daren asked.

"I wasn't there. I heard the hotel collapsed and everyone else died of sword wounds."

Daren noticed Sephiroth seemed interested in the sword wound part, but he decided it was better not to ask anyone who seemed too interested in weapons lest they decide to try one out. "Interesting. Most of the wounds on him were made with a sword. He's tougher than I thought."

"You sure it was a sword?"

"Either that or a very thin baseball bat."

"Hey you!" Daren heard Cid yell. That had become one of Cid's nicer names for him.

"Yes?" Daren asked, turning to Cid.

"What's the big idea taking his shirt off?"

"Oh for—Don't carry him like that!"

"Answer my damn question! Why'd you take Vincent's damn shirt off?"

"For crying out loud he had three broken rips and a—that's Vincent? You mean Vincent Valentine?"

"Hey, hands off!"

"What did you do to piss him off?" Sephiroth asked, only mildly concerned.

"I met him," Daren said.

"I'm leaving and I don't want you talking to him, I don't want you touching him, I don't even want you thinking of doing anything to him!" Cid said, and stormed off, carrying Vincent in his arms.

"One of his more pleasant visits," Daren said, turning around. Sephiroth wasn't there.

* * *

Vincent woke up and looked around. The curtains had been pulled over the window and it was dark. This was Cid's bed, with Cid in it, but Cid wasn't cuddling him, trying to cut off circulation in one of his limbs, or putting his hands down Vincent's pants.

Something was not right. Cid always clung to whatever was handy when he slept. The first night they shared the hotel room, Vincent had to move the Death Penalty before Cid shot his head off while hugging it.

Part of him regretted taking it away. Another part said he should have just turned the gun the other way so Cid would just shoot himself in the foot.

On that note, where the hell was his gun? If he was going to be around Cid, he wanted to be armed.

Then again, if he was going to shoot Cid for being a jackass, he should probably wait for his vision to work again. He could feel the bandage over his right eye.

Nah. He could shoot Cid perfectly with one eye. Maybe even without any, though he didn't want to test a permanent form of that theory out.

He sat up, and suddenly regretted doing so as every single wound started hurting more as he moved.

Cid mumbled something as the bed shifted and Vincent moved the covers off both of them.

Suddenly finding a bit more resolve, Vincent slowly stood up and tore the covers off the bed.

Satisfied with leaving Cid shivering on the bed, Vincent slowly padded out the door, tossing the covers on the floor.

He heard a slight noise of protest and looked at the floor. There was a pile of black on the floor.

It was too dark in the room, too early, and Vincent was too pissed at Cid to think about it and ignored it as a pile of laundry, not caring when Cid had started wearing black things or when he started leaving his clothes on the floor.

Upon entering the kitchen, Vincent stopped and stared at the two people at the table.

"I see you're up," Daren said cheerfully, his hand over Shera's.

"This is—" Shera started.

"Daren, right?" Vincent asked, still staring at the doctor.

Daren nodded.

Seeing that he was right in recognizing Daren, Vincent turned to the fridge and took out the milk carton. "If you'll excuse me for being rude," Vincent said, and started drinking out of the carton. When he'd stayed at Cid's house he discovered something absolutely amazing about Shera. She was a total slob. As meticulous as she was with mechanics and cooking, she left food out, dishes on the table and the floor, laundry all over the place, and hardly ever changed out of her grubby clothes after work. "So, when's the date?"

"What date?" Daren asked. Vincent almost smiled at his nervousness.

Shera turned away.

"Either you're hiding something or you glued your hands together from across the table."

"We… weren't going to tell anyone until all of this nasty murder business has been solved," Daren said.

"Hey!" Cid was up.

Vincent was about to glare at Cid for yelling at him about drinking out of the carton or complaining about the blanket. The preparation was in vain, however. For the first time since before they started their relationship, Cid wasn't paying attention to Vincent at all.

"What're you doin' in my house?" Cid yelled at Daren.

"Shera invited me."

"Shera!" Cid yelled. "I asked you to fix a stupid doorbell and then you're inviting the riffraff in!"

"Cid, I've been inviting him over for months," she said.

"I know, and I complained about it then too. What's it gonna take to get you out of my house?"

"Cid, leave him alone," Vincent said, and finished off the milk in a couple of gulps.

"Not you too!" Cid exclaimed.

"Cid, they're just like us when we were together. Leave them alone, they make a nice couple."

"Yeah, they are kinda cut—Hey! No way! No one gets horizontal in my house!"

"Especially not you," Sephiroth commented, walking past Cid. Sephiroth contemplated the fridge, but decided he was perfectly content watching Vincent and Cid try to kill each other.

"Hey!" Cid yelled.

Vincent opened his mouth and raised a finger. He blinked twice and indicated to Sephiroth with his thumb, finding his vocal cords out of order.

"Oh, you see him too. It's not just me then. I guess he's a group hallucination."

"Cid, I asked you to help figure out who the murderer is, not bring him home with you."

"I haven't killed anyone since I got back," Sephiroth said, crossing his arms.

"He's not the murderer," Cid said, waving Sephiroth off.

"Oh, then that's fine then," Vincent said sarcastically. "You can't find the murderer, so you show up with another one, brilliant."

"Oh he's fine once you ignore him," Cid said.

"I ask you for help—I ask you for help when god knows how many lives are on the line."

"Yes, you're fucking welcome for saving your life. You're goddamn fucking welcome for jumping in a damn plane with you while I'm dying of frostbite so I can have someone sew up your damn ass! You're so goddamn motherfucking welcome for me getting back in time, think nothing of it, you fucking git!"

"You were the one who comes back from accomplishing less than nothing only to have your head down my shorts!"

"I wasn't the one throwing condoms around!"

"I think I'll leave before they start screwing each other to death on the table," Daren said quietly and got up. He kissed Shera on the cheek and hurried out the door, shielding himself in case Cid started throwing things at him like usual.

"Hey!" Cid yelled. "There will be no kissing in this house! You hear me?"

"I'll agree to that one," Vincent said, taking advantage of Cid's back being turned and putting the empty milk carton back in the fridge. "Where's my gun, I want to shoot you with it."

Cid sighed. "They said they'd send it to you in the mail. They only found the little one."

"Who's going to send it in the mail? Where's my Death Penalty?"

"Those idiots up in that measly little excuse for a village," Cid said. "Considering how dumb they are I'm surprised they recognized it. They're probably going to have the dog address the envelope. Where the hell are you going?"

"To find someone competent to help me."

"Good luck," Sephiroth said.

"Oh no you're not!" Cid yelled, grabbing Vincent by the arm. Vincent spun around and punched Cid in the face. Cid didn't let go.

"Look, you can yell at me, you can piss me off, you can ask me for help, and you can even fucking shoot me, Vince. I'm not letting you wander off again!"

"Oh, now you want me!"

"Of course I want you. I always wanted you, dumbass!"

"Just like when you told me to get the hell out of Rocket Town."

"Fine. I made you leave, so I'm going to pay for it. I told you to go figure out your life and if I'm not included in it then that's fucking that. But you are NOT leaving in that condition with some psycho tryin' to kill you."

Vincent said nothing. Even with only one eye he managed to be pretty intimidating and it was finally working on Cid. That didn't make him let go of his arm.

"Look, if we're not both hallucinating this guy, someone tried to kill him too," Cid said, pointing at Sephiroth. "If they knew he was comin' back and that you were in that hotel then when you had your name taken off the roster to protect yourself, we're dealin' with someone pretty goddamn smart. We're dealing' with someone smart, we're dealin' with someone capable of dishin' out a lotta overkill, and we're dealin' with some bastard that knows about you, him, and Jenova and what you're all capable of. In my book I'd say that's pretty damn high odds to survive by wandering out into the street, unarmed and alone in the middle of the day."

"Never tell me the odds, Cid. I know how much you suck at math."

"You know, you used to call me 'Chief.'"

"I also used to think you were a decent person. Now I just think you're smart."


	5. Chapter 5

Vincent sat at the table, slowly scribbling names and clues about the mysterious murders on a piece of paper. Vincent's aim wasn't any worse from him having only one eye, as proved by the holes in the wall and the couch when Vincent opened the package from the police and started firing at Cid.

At least he was happy about getting his gun back.

Despite his good aim, Vincent seemed worried his handwriting would suffer and went agonizingly slow. This gave Cid some time to think.

Sephiroth, whom everyone ignored—an amazing feat considering what had conspired three years ago—sat and watched the two, now and then nibbling on Vincent's lunch that Cid had prepared. Cid had tried to smooth things over with the gesture of making lunch for Vincent, but Vincent ignored it, and the fact that Sephiroth was eating it.

It was one of those days. It was one of those days when your ex and your arch nemesis siting at the same table and going over a body count was a good thing; you could keep an eye on both of them at the same time, and as long as the body count didn't include you, they were too distracted to do anything to you.

Vincent knew Cid was thinking and hard. He seemed pleased, but in no way less likely to kill Cid.

Indeed, Cid was thinking hard. Just not about the murders.

He was remembering the Vincent he used to know and was so distracted with that love managed to sneak up on him when he wasn't looking.

The first few days after he arrived, Vincent had spent most of the time sleeping, silently complaining, eating, and vomiting. Stasis or not, Vincent hadn't eaten in over thirty years and everything had twice as many preservatives and sugar or was heavily deep-fried and nothing was the way Vincent remembered. Essentially, this turned Vincen't stomach into a trampoline.

Vincent had taken an instant liking to Cid after he offered to share his bedroom. It was the captains quarters and had it's own bathroom, unlike the others. Vincent had mistaken Cid's desire to keep vomit off the floor of the plane for an invitation to cuddle. Not that either minded much. Vincent was just as cuddly the first few months as his mind slowly decided no one was going to sell him to Hojo, use him as an inhuman shield, or take advantage of him in any sort of way.

He just wasn't as perverted when he cuddled, just extremely clingy, as if he feared someone abducting him in the middle of the night. Or maybe that was just Cid's hands. The fact that he had started to complain every time he found Cid's hands on his ass meant he was dealing with himself slightly better—nowhere near stable, but better.

Cid had walked in one day, no particular day at all, nothing special, and found Vincent standing perfectly silent and still in the middle of the room and looking at him. Cid was damn sure Vincent was the only person who could pull those two things off and be perfect at it.

Vincent pulled down the neck of his cape slightly parted his lips, his gaze unreadable. Those same lips suddenly pressed softly against Cid's and after that he'd been obsessed with them. Every body part Vincent ever offered to Cid he was obsessed with. He spent last night tracing over those lips, waiting for Vincent to respond by trying to strangle him with the covers. He used to trace over every line and curve of Vincent's chest once he'd been given the permission to touch him there. It drove them both nuts the way Cid tried to lick and tickle his passion away on Vincent's thighs. It had been a good kind of nuts. At least, Cid thought it was and he was never able to stop once Vincent took his pants off.

Vincent had run away after the kiss. The kiss he'd started out of the blue. He ran off and hid for half a day, then left with Cloud to fight. He came back and they still shared the same room, the same bed. Cid had bothered to kiss him on the cheek before they both fell asleep.

Cid really didn't know why, or how much that one gesture would end up solidifying something dangerous between them.

As much as Vincent liked touch—craved it even—he abhorred sex. He didn't like Cid asking for it, he didn't like Cid's hands creeping down his underwear in the middle of the night, he didn't like even thinking of the concept of having sex. He only showed mild annoyance in how obvious it was that Cid's body was reacting to the proximity of his own. That part was natural and for the most part Cid ignored it and never brought it up, something Vincent appreciated. Cid's hands, however, got him kicked out of his own room numerous times.

Vincent knew exactly how much and in what way Cid wanted him. Cid never got what he wanted until days after they accidentally wandered into Lucrecia. Cid knew that subject was like getting a rather brutal whipping for Vincent and stayed the hell away from it. Then they had to walk right into her living room in a cave. Vincent seemed rather composed and sane while talking to her, but after that, he was completely silent and collapsed as soon as they got back on the Highwind.

They had had to get a hotel because of Vincent. He didn't eat, he didn't talk and he almost never got out of bed. Tifa and Yuffie ganged up to drag him out, but gave up after dragging his dead weight only a few feet. He'd crawled back into bed after that. It was three days after they'd mistaken the cave for where the key was that Vincent finally talked. Yuffie wandered in to try and get him to eat, and Vincent, whispering, asked to see Cid.

Cid came in, thinking his friend needed to talk, and was jumped on and had Vincent's tongue in his mouth before he knew what was happening.

Talking wasn't going to heal Vincent, not now. Not yet. Vincent's mind wasn't working and was more muddled and harder to fix than an exploded engine part. He wanted something physical before he could deal with anything mental and Cid was happy to give it to him, although he wished the first time could have been under different circumstances.

Vincent got over it. They talked. Vincent talked to everyone and then went back to being his silent, invisible self.

Cid thought everything would be perfect after that. He'd dragged Vincent to Rocket Town and asked Vincent if he'd stay to live with him afterwards—provided they both survived—during the time Cloud gave everyone to think things over before the final battle.

Vincent had agreed, rather cheerfully, but in just six months after Cid returned to his town, his dream of space and desire for rockets and planes, everything had gone straight to hell.

Vincent talked less and less until he was finally silent. He became more and more lethargic, sometimes refusing to even get out of bed. He stopped doing anything but lie in bed and wonder at the curtains.

Some days he even looked sick.

Cid had thought nothing could be more painful until he found himself handing Vincent a badly packed suitcase of all his things and telling him he couldn't stay anymore.

It wasn't Cid's fault. He'd done the right thing. He told Vincent they couldn't keep doing this and Vincent had to figure out his problems, his life. It had to be done. He said he'd help if Vincent ever needed it. He said he still loved him.

After all the pain and everything he'd sacrificed to tell Vincent to find a purpose in his life, it had ended up being to make Cid's life as miserable as possible.

"Pay attention," Vincent chided, not looking up from his pile of notes.

"I am," Cid complained.

"I meant to the case."

"Case? What—Oh that case," Cid said. "Why not just get Cloud to help you if you'd rather take my head off than let me use it?"

"Because you're the one with the keys to the plane," Vincent said. "Besides, Cloud's keeping an eye on things at Kalm and Junon with the others."

"So did he find out anything, or did he get distracted by something shiny?"

"Three more people were killed. The cleaning lady, Reeve's secretary, and one of the police investigating the crime scene. The police officer managed to report that Reeve's files on us went missing. He seems to have taken a dive out a locked window a few hours later."

"Reeve kept files on us?"

"From while he was spying on us as Cait Sith. When he changed sides he kept them like an address book."

"So how'd you know about it?"

"Reeve asked if he could keep the file he'd made about me."

"Why didn't he ask me?"

"I'm a lot touchier than you are."

"That's a lie and you know it, Vince."

"I meant I was more likely to blast his head open for prying into my personal life than you were."

"Oh. That makes more sense."

"We're in trouble, Cid."

"Well, I knew that part," Cid said.

"I meant more trouble."

"Yeah, well, trouble always did like to invite its friends over without tellin' ya."

"I don't think Reeve was killed just for the files. The others, maybe, but not him. This person was smart enough to find Hojo's notes on his personal projects and how to use the information in them to his advantage. This isn't just a job of cleaning up the messes he left behind. We're a threat just by being alive. And he's right," Vincent said, pointing to Sephiroth, who was quietly amused at how casual it was. "If they took his sword, they weren't looking for a collector's item, they wanted to scare the authorities away."

"However, they aren't too keen on fighting techniques, considering how amateurishly they used it on him," Sephiroth commented, pointing to Vincent, or rahter, his wounds.

Cid and Vincent turned to him.

"What?" Sephiroth asked.

"Why are you still here?" Cid asked.

"I told you, I want my sword and you two seem to be interested in who took it."

"Are you at least going to get out my house once you got your stupid sword back?" Cid asked.

"Of course. I'll probably go find Cloud, explain things to him and ask if anything important's happened over the last few years."

Vincent was about to ask why a gigantic murder conspiracy, in which Sephiorth himself was a target in, wasn't important, but Cid interrupted him before he could begin.

"Yeah, go talk to Cloud, I'll bet he'll be really glad to see you," Cid said sarcastically. "And he calls me stupid," Cid said, pointing to Vincent.

"You are stupid," Vincent said.

Cid was prevented from giving Vincent a pathetic retort by a knock on the door.

"We don't want any cookies or religion and you can't borrow anything!" Cid yelled before he opened the door. "You?" he yelled, angrier than before, seeing Daren standing on the porch. "Didn't I tell you to go away and never come back?"

"Yes, many times, actually—"

"Then why don't you do it? Besides, Shera's not here."

"I know that, she's still unclogging the drain after I cleaned up from his surgery," Daren said, waving his hand at Vincent.

"What, you gonna give me a bill now?"

"Actually, I thought you might be interested in this," Daren said, holding up a few pieces of melted metal. "I tossed it away, thinking it was a piece of the building that fell on him, but when Shera pulled them out of the drain, I found I was mistaken."

"So what the fuck are they and why should I care?" Cid asked.

"May I come in please?"

"No!" Cid yelled.

"Yes, Vincent said.

"Hey, I said no!" Cid yelled at Vincent.

"Cid, this could be important."

"He can explain it outside."

"Hi, Vincent," Daren said, waving politely.

To Cid's surprised, Vincent waved back.

"Hey, knock it off!" Cid complained. "You two know each other or something?"

"I… uh… it…" Daren started.  
"So, what did you find?" Vincent asked.

"Once I got it cleaned off I realized it was shrapnel, not bits of a building. Shera confirmed it all came from some sort of bomb. Well, except this one, this one's a bullet."

"Who the hell would try and kill you with a sword and a gun?" Cid asked, turning around. Vincent was right next to him. He hadn't heard him approach.

"Damnit, knock that off!"

"My own gun," Vincent commented, after inspecting the bullet.

"The police said they were pretty sure the hotel fell down all by itself," Cid said. "Knowing them, I'm not surprised, they probably filled the damn report out in crayon."

"As much as I think they're more incompetent than you—something I'm having trouble getting my mind around—I'd say that one wasn't their fault," Vincent commented. "We're already dealing with someone who knows who had what to do with Shinra and where to get the information they needed from anyone who used to work there. We've also got someone who doesn't want any evidence of Hojo's work running around on their own, and a dead TURK."

"Vince, that doesn't add up. Do you realize you're calling Shinra smart?"

"The TURKS weren't dumb. Not last I checked. They also used a sort of bomb that regular police didn't have the training to find any evidence of. And according to Reeve, bombs were Rude's specialty once Tseng kicked the bucket."

"Great more zombies. What are you still doing here?" Cid yelled at Daren.


End file.
